Revelations of the Ultimate Kind
by Terra King
Summary: Third Drabble Up. AU Fifth-Year. This is a shot at how the Justice League reacts to Harry's life story after fate brings him to them, and destiny sees that he becomes a cherished member of their family. Whether or not this evolves into a full-fledged story will depend entirely on reviews and suggestions - see inside for more details. So please help me make a choice. Thank you all.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or Harry Potter. I just borrow them for personal amusement, no money made.

Author's Note: I have been intending to write a Harry Potter and Justice League Crossover fanfiction, but I severely doubt my abilities to do so. Hence, I decided to take a leap of faith and come up with a one-shot "drabble" or extract, post it up, and then come to a final decision depending on the reviews and the suggestions I receive for this. This scene is focused on the League's reaction to Harry's revealing his life-story to them. Please kindly assist me to make a choice as to continue or not continue, everyone. Thank you.

Warning: There will be mentions of abuse. If you are a Dumbledore fan, please turn back now. If you do not approve of same-sex relationships and cannot stand even the slightest implications of them, please also turn back now. You all have been warned.

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><p>Fourteen. The age of discovering how attractive the opposite – or the same, or both – sex can be, the guilty joy of sneaking out of bed past curfew, the exhilarating sense of daring that came with arguing with parents as the realisation that they are not always right increases, the best ways to sweet-talk one's way out of detention or academic failures. Granted, when some of the superheroes like Superman and Wonder Woman were fourteen, they were coming into their extraordinary powers and seasoning themselves in the arts of combat in an unconscious effort to prepare for their impending destinies.<p>

But…generally, it was still a pretty innocent age.

Fourteen-year-olds do not vividly remember every single excruciating, unthinkable detail of their parents' murder, especially when it was an event that occurred when they were but one-year-old.

They do not work as a constantly abused, constantly humiliated servant in a household where they were supposed to be treated with affection.

They do not fight evil Dark Lords.

They do not have teachers with an incorporeal form of a madman who wanted all non-magical folk dead on the back of their heads.

They do not save the Philosopher's Stone.

They do not fight Basilisks in secret chambers.

They do not fend off hundreds of soul-sucking monsters that drain all joy and hope out of people.

They do not compete in deadly tournaments consisting of fire-breathing dragons, killer mermaids, and monster-infested mazes.

They do not witness their parents' murderer resurrected.

They do not engage in duels to the death the instant after said resurrection.

But once again, just when the League thought they had the mystery that was Harry Potter solved, he pulled another rabbit from his hat. This was a boy that defied all known facts of life. It was not fair to Harry to have so much dumped on him at such a young age, but the fact that he could carry the weight even when it was dumped on him…was _absolutely_ pride-inspiring. After all, the League – especially the Seven Originals – had come to look upon Harry as a younger brother, or Batman's and Wonder Woman's case, their very own child.

Batman had thought that Harry's background would be somewhat similar to his, or Dick's, or Tim's. But as Harry revealed all of his adventures, all his brushes with death, all the horrors he had been forced to witness, and all of the pain and suffering he had been forced to endure since infancy, he realised how wrong he was.

Compared to Harry, his situation and those of his wards' could be counted as nothing. He also learned how genuinely _brave_ Harry was.

As brave as any true hero, if not more so.

Hecate had been right: it was _amazing_ how much Harry have faced and have the strength and courage to do so.

Needless to say, when Harry had come to the end of his story, there was a silence where one could near a pin drop, or even one's heart beating. More than one face was wet with tears…Diana's the most prominent one. Shayera had given up brushing her tears away. Flash pinched his nose hard. Zatanna was sobbing silently.

"This is the story of my life. Thank you all for listening to it from the beginning to the end. But now…if nobody minds, I would like to get some rest."

The instant the Lasso of Truth was withdrawn, Harry collapsed…

Into Diana's waiting arms.

He was sound asleep.

It had taken every ounce of physical and emotional strength he possessed to reveal the story of a life where even the simplest of joys was the rarest commodity, and where there was a constant wondering as to whether or not the next breath he took would be his last.

As Diana gently stroked the midnight-dark hair, whispered assurances despite knowing they might not be heard, and tears flowed down her beautiful face, it struck each and every one of the League realised that they had witnessed yet another act of Harry's unparalleled courage: the boy's mind might be exhausted from remembering, his heart drained from the ache of unhappy memories, but he had kept his promise to them. He had told them nothing but the truth. He had not looked away from the truth. He had not embellished or lied away the past to make his present less bitter. Instead, he had trod once more that long, unexpected path that brought him to this place, reliving every mistake, every tear, and every fear; he had told his deepest feelings about a world where, he had come to realise, had offered him more heartache than happiness despite it being the last vital link to his parents' memory.

"I will take him to his room."

Carrying the unresponsive boy as carefully as if he was made of porcelain in her arms, Diana left, her heart aching as she felt how light he really was. Flash quietly followed her, humming a low soothing tune and gently stroking Harry's hair in an attempt at reassurance. Despite his heavy, troubled heart, the Fastest Man Alive could not help but notice how lovely Harry was: the rich, thick hair was so dark it had the prettiest blue highlights, forming a dramatic contrast to flawless alabaster skin kissed by summer roses. His initial assessment about the eyebrows being gull-winged had been accurate, and they hovered perfectly over almond-shaped eyes. In sleep, long, lush indigo lashes dusted high, chiselled cheekbones.

He looked beautiful, as beautiful and adorable as a cherub. Yet there was a haunted tragic quality to that beauty that made it seem as though it was a mirage that a slight breeze could blow away in an instant. He looked vulnerable, lost, sad…_so young._

Younger than his fourteen years.

So much younger.

_Such delicate beauty…such fragile innocence…how had it survived destruction at the hands of those monsters, those horrors?_

_Never mind that now. Do not worry, child. You are safe now here. As long as Wally West breathes, no one will ever hurt you, or touch a single strand of hair on your head against your will. That is a promise…_

It took the most supreme effort to restrain himself from breaking or hitting something till there was nothing left of it, but Superman managed it. "He really is the bravest child I have ever been privileged to meet."

"_We_ have ever been privileged to meet, Clark, _we._" John corrected silently, his dark handsome features grim. He turned to Batman, who was looking as though murder might not be such a bad idea after all. "What do you intend to do now, Daddy Bats?"

"Take the _best_ care I can of certain issues. First the Dursleys, then Voldemort, and last but not least…_Dumbledore._"

"I propose putting Mr. I-Always-Know-What's-Best before Mr. Snake-Face." Green Arrow spoke up suddenly. His countenance was as cold and menacing and sinister as Batman's, but it seemed as if he was also simmering with the heat of unmistakable fury._ Fire and ice, _Speedy thought, shrinking a little at the sight of his mentor's rage. He had never seen him like this before. _Green Arrow is on fire and ice._

But the emerald Robin Hood was not done.

"Mr. Snake-Face may be a real menace, but we have dealt with worse. It will be a breeze for us to settle him. It is Mr. I-Always-Know-What's-Best we have to worry about, especially considering his power and influence in Harry's world. Sooner or later, he is going to realise where Harry is, and then he will pull every dirty trick from his sleeve to get him back under his control. He needs his White King for checkmating after all. So…I say we deal with him first before going after the snake."

Kara cracked her knuckles. "Ollie is right. Voldemort is bad, but Dumbledore is worse. He had set it all up so that Harry will need to fight that monster, ingraining the need to save people, to play the hero. To play his White King. If he is as intelligent and cunning and powerful as Harry says he is, then he will be coming after us once he finds out Harry is here. We need to stop him first."

Shayera smiled viciously and slapped her mace against her other hand, for there was no sensation like focusing on what needed to be done to amend an extremely bad situation. "I second that notion."

"I third that." Zatanna put in, brushing away the last of her tears and pulling herself back to control. There was a new light of purpose now in her red-rimmed eyes. "That old goat needs to pay."

Black Canary put her hands on her hips. "Sorry, ladies, but you will get him _only_ after he have gone a few rounds with _me._"

_No, oh, no. I appreciate your thirst for righteous vengeance, ladies. But all of you will have your turns_ only_ if there is anything left of him after _I_ am done with him._ Batman and Green Arrow thought in perfect unison, hiding their approving smiles with the practiced ease of socialites.

As more and more voiced their willingness to mete out punishment on Harry's behalf, the Man of Steel sighed. It was times like this where he hated always having to be a role model for others, and where he envied Bruce's freedom to be a good deal more frightening than he was allowed to be. The Justice Lord Superman, Project Cadmus, Hamilton's betrayal and subsequent comparing him to the Devil, Luthor's taunting…they had forever destroyed, if not diminished, whatever desires he had with thoroughly mastering the powers of intimidation and fear-induction.

Control was paramount to the _First Among Equals_ after all. For there was too much at risk.

Hence, as much as he hated to do this, he cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "I know that there is no need for me to remind you all that the League does not kill people. No matter how much we want to."

Green Arrow stepped up, an expression of disbelief and indignation on his face. "Clark –"

Superman held up a hand. "I am not saying that those who had hurt Harry so should go unpunished. I agree with everyone here that they have to pay for what they have done to him. And they have to pay _dearly._ Dumbledore most of all. Truth be known, I myself personally think that he is as evil as Voldemort, as evil as any monster we have been forced to send to oblivion. They at least were upfront about being bad, but he…with all his dark secrets, his subtle manipulations, his ceaseless games, his constant proclamations that his actions are all for the greater good…I think he is an utter schmusk."

Shayera folded her arms. "Then why, Clark?"

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><p>That is all for now, folks. Please help me make a choice, and remember that I am always open to suggestions. Thank you all...<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or Harry Potter. I just borrow them for personal amusement, no money made.

Author's Note: I must say, the amount of positive reviews I have received is a true pleasant surprise. I had never expected such a positive response. However...I am sorry to say that I have certain private matters that have to be settled first before I can put my heart, my soul, my spirit, and of course my mind into writing the story from top to bottom. Hence, to sweeten the pill that I am inevitably delivering to those who have urged me to convert this into a full story, I have come up with this second drabble. This scene is focused as to how Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus react as to Harry's growing unwillingness to return with them since he has found a new true family with the League.

Warning: This extract is centered on self-reflection, and the subsequent breakdowns because of it. If you are a Dumbledore fan, please turn back now. If you are not one for emotional scenes or self-reproach, please also turn back now. You all have been warned.

P.S.: To those who wondered as to how Harry ended up with the Justice League, allow me to remind you that so far, this is only a DRABBLE, an EXTRACT, and hence obviously not Chapter One.

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><p>It was Hermione. "I thought you might not be in bed yet."<p>

Ron managed a small, sad smile. "Woman's intuition, they call it?"

"It is times like this that make me sincerely wonder as to whether you are silly or clever, Ron." Hermione confessed, her face worn with exasperation though there was a slight twinkle in her eyes. She sat down on the bed. "Sometimes I even think that if you bothered to put the entirety of your heart and your mind into your studies, you could actually beat _me._"

Ron shook his head at once. "You are the cleverest and most knowledgeable witch of our generation, Hermione. Never doubt that. After all these years, you have proven that again and again. If it were not for your intellect, your brains…I do not know where Harry and I would be without you."

"Cleverness, brilliance, intelligence, wittiness…all _subjective,_ Ron, all _subjective._ I may be a good scholar, but only in terms of book-learning. You and Harry are intelligent in your respective ways. Do not forget: _you_ were the one who got us through McGonagall's chessboard trial and figured out that the Chamber of Secrets was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. And till now, no one – not even me – has been able to beat you in a game of chess. Harry was the one who worked out the secret of the Mirror of Erised, confirm Slytherin's monster as a Basilisk and as to how it had been petrifying its victim with just a hint from me, and he had scored full marks for DADA in our third year – something that I failed to achieve. Not to mention that he has always had an uncanny knack for spotting details that others do not."

"Well, he was always the most resourceful of us three."

It was then that they both froze.

Harry.

They had arrived at the subject of Harry.

Harry, their dearest friend, who may or may not be returning to them, despite the fact that they both needed him so much. Not only as a leader, a protector, but also as the glue that kept their seemingly tight-knit group together and functioning normally.

Contrary to what most think, Ron and Hermione were well-aware of their personal flaws, and it was an unspoken yet acknowledged fact between them that it was only Harry who had kept them from going overboard. If it were not for Harry, Ron's self-esteem issues would have worsened, and he might have lost his individuality by squandering his entire life in trying to replicate his brothers. He would never have realised his own worth. If it were not for Harry, Hermione would still be all alone, still be lost in a Wonderland where books were everything, and in the printed word was where the only truth was. She would never have opened up and learned how to make friends. She would never have realised that there was more to life than learning, and that the written word could actually be unreliable.

After all they had been through, it was impossible to imagine going on without him.

Hermione shifted closer towards Ron. "I have been thinking about what you said this afternoon. That Harry might not keep going, might not come back to us, even if You-Know-Who has been defeated once and for all."

Ron sighed and tried to put on a brave smile. "I was angry and upset. I should not have said it. Merlin knows it does no good to ponder over it."

Hermione's eyes were sad and dark with unshed tears. It was no use denying it: the truth hurts. "You meant, I suppose, that we – Professor Dumbledore, the Order, the two of us, and the entire wizarding world at large – have broken Harry. Beyond repair. We have broken him to the extent in which he has become thoroughly disillusioned with our world. Hence, even if he decides to come back, our relationship can never go back to the way it once was. The two of us would be _lucky_ to be viewed as acquaintances. His coming back would be for one sole reason: You-Know-Who. The moment where he gets rid of You-Know-Who…is the moment where he leaves us forever."

At that, there was a pause of utter silence. Hermione brushed her tears and took a deep breath to choke down her sobs. It would do no good to break down now. Ron did not cry. But he had gone deathly pale. He looked exhausted. _Resigned._ "Merlin, I regret it. I regret it so much." Hermione moaned. "You were right all along, Ron, we never should have listened to them when they told us not to write or try to communicate with Harry. If we had –"

"I doubt it would have made much of a difference anyway." Ron confessed quietly, rising from the chair to sit on his bed. The two friends stared at each other, united by mutual grief and the hindsight that inevitably followed tragedy. "You remember how he was treated when we lost 150 points in our first year, and how he was _after_ he stopped You-Know-Who from stealing the Philosopher's Stone? And you remember when he was once suspected as Slytherin's Heir because he was a Paselmouth, and that suspicion was disproved only because _you_ were attacked? Well, those constant changes in universal attitude towards him shook him, I reckon. He told me so in our second year, after you were attacked. He told me that the way the wizarding world treated him sometimes made him want to run away. I never believed him…until now. He really has run away because it became too much for him."

There was another silence. Two large tears rolled down Ron's cheeks, but he quickly brushed them away, and his look at Hermione took on a glint of hope. "But I think you have a better chance at remaining in his good books than I do, Hermione. After all, when the chips were down, you were more there more for him than I ever was. Especially during our fourth year." He shook his head in self-disgust as he reminisced what had to be the stupidest, most selfish period of his life. "I cannot believe that I had been such a brat, especially after everything we had gone through together."

Hermione had to laugh at that, albeit weakly. "Ron, friendship is not perfect, and sometimes it screws up. Our relationship had had its ups-and-downs, but none of the three of us were without blame in those instances. We have all made our respective share of mistakes, but we have managed to come through as one in the end. Harry has forgiven you for that a long time ago, and so have I. We three have always been getting along, then arguing over trivial matters, then giving one another the cold shoulder, and then patching up again." She brightened as something struck her. "Maybe this is just another of those instances. One more test for our friendship. Chances are that Harry would give this world and _us_ another chance, and we would graduate from Hogwarts together."

Ron wished to Merlin with every inch of his soul and being that he could share in Hermione's dawning optimism, but he could not. He had long since realised, with an insight born of burgeoning maturity, that there was a very real possibility that the wizarding world might never see Harry Potter again, despite what Dumbledore and the Order might say or do.

_Dumbledore…his mother…Sirius…Remus…Snape…the Order…_the thought of them used to make his blood boil, especially after he learned how Harry had suffered because of their inaction and their uncanny ability to go "blind, deaf, and mute" when they should not be, but now that anger was tempered by a weary remorseful sadness. _What was the point? I am as guilty and to-blame as any of them. The signs had been there all along, but I had either overlooked them, or failed to recognise them, or chose to ignore them as figments of my imagination._

"I hate to be pessimistic, Hermione, I really do, but I do not know about that. I cannot envision that happening. Professor Dumbledore may preach tolerance, understanding, and forgiveness, but I believe that he has become so caught-up in his little fantasy world that he has forgotten that reality does not work that way. There are some wounds that could run too deep for healing, too painful for forgiveness, even for someone with Harry's love and compassion. That was part of why I lashed out at him: I was afraid that he had inflicted Harry with those wounds through _us, _Hermione_._ I was afraid, so afraid that he had cost us Harry's friendship. Cost us all any chances of Harry willingly coming back to us."

"Ron…"

"And besides, we have to take into consideration whether or not the Justice League will let him come back to us. Especially Batman. From what I have seen and heard, he will definitely be the one who raises the strongest objection to Harry coming back. He is deeply fond of Harry. I think he is the one who is intending to officially adopt Harry."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Batman? Officially adopt Harry?"

"I encountered him when I was picking up groceries for Mom. We talked. Rest assured, though, that he did not harm or influence or do anything bad to me in anyway. He was decent, courteous…gentlemanly, even. But in the subtle way that you say that he was infamous for, Hermione; he made extremely clear that he did not approve of Harry returning to our world. He seems to believe that Harry will spiritually die if he comes back, if not _both_ physically and spiritually. And given what we know of the League's general overall reaction towards Professor Dumbledore, I say they agree with Batman wholeheartedly."

Hermione hung her head._ What would our world be like if three became two? How are we supposed to carry on without him? He is such an important part of our lives._ "What do you yourself think, Ron? Do you think he is right? Do think Harry will die if he comes back?"

Their focus, she suddenly realised, should be more on whether or not what would happen to Harry if he decided to come back. Not whether or not he decided to come back.

Ron looked thoughtful, as though he genuinely contemplated that unthinkable possibility. "I do not know, Hermione," he said at last. "I do not know. I have never thought about that before. Not even once. Never ever. What kind of best friend would I be if I actually thought about something as terrible as _that_ happening every now and then? My Dad always told me that self-fulfilling prophecies can be extremely powerful, and hence we should always be careful as to what we say or even think, because we never know when they might actually come true. All I know for sure is that...Professor Dumbledore is not on the League's Christmas list, and if he plans to take Harry back by force, they are not giving up without the best fight they could give. And I am scared that if –"

"If – and that is an extremely big "If" – Professor Dumbledore manages to get Harry back by force, all he will get is a puppet, a soulless doll. Something no better than a corpse. Is that what you are trying to say?" Hermione interrupted him. There were no tears from her, for there were some kinds of silent hurts that were beyond tears, but worse than heartbreak. An agony that both of them were coming to understand too well despite their young age.

"But what will we do without him, Ron? I cannot speak for everyone, but the two of us need him. Desperately. Sincerely. Not as the Boy-Who-Lived, but as one of our dearest friends. He has always been there for us. Can you imagine us without Harry? Can you imagine Hogwarts without Harry?"

Ron sighed. "I cannot. Merlin, I just cannot. But we also have to face reality."

_A reality where Harry may or may not be with us._

"It does not seem right to leave Harry with the likes of Batman and the League, considering the kind of lifestyle they lead, and yet it also does not seem right to have Harry come back to us. What then is the right answer? What should be done that is accurate?"

"Hermione, as much as I do not like to admit it, the League was there for Harry at a time where no one else was. Where he would have died because none of us were there to help pick up the pieces, glue them back together, and truly care for it as a whole."

"I am not discounting what they had done for Harry, Ron, but –"

"But you want our best friend back, right?"

There was a pause.

Then, without consideration, without hesitation, as though she had meant to do it all along, Hermione pulled Ron into a hug, arms tight around him, clinging to him as if she was a drowning person and him a life-preserver. Ron was unsurprised. He wrapped his arms around her, patting her on her shoulder, offering what comfort he could.

Unbeknownst to them, there was an Extendable Ear on the floor near the door. It had been there the instant Hermione had walked in.

The entire Order of the Phoenix had heard everything.

From the beginning to the end.

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><p>"Chocolate, Moony?"<p>

Sirius had thought that Remus was crying, but when he took his hands away from his face, he was not. He looked broken. Vulnerable. He spoke, and his voice was trembling with suppressed emotion. "Yes, Sirius?"

Sirius was holding two cups of steaming hot chocolate with – if what he smelled was accurate – mini marshmallows, a wry grin on his handsome face though his heart was heavier than it had ever been. "Would you like some chocolate, Moony?"

"Love to. Thanks."

Werewolves always had a taste for sweets, driven by their need to preserve their strength and to replenish energy that each monthly transformation inevitably depleted, and hence Remus' intense favour for chocolate, which he had loved even before he had been bitten. In their school days, he had been known to devour an entire chocolate figure by himself, especially if the transformation had been a very nasty one. There was no sensation more blissful to Remus than letting the chocolate melt on his tongue, sending soothing thrills all over his body like a lover's caress, and the subsequent rush of energy that chased away the exhaustion that often plagued him because of his condition.

But tonight, the deliciousness of the marshmallow-enhanced chocolate failed to delight his palate.

He could not enjoy it, not when his heart was as sorrowful as that of Sirius'. "Sleepless too, Padfoot?"

It was an unnecessary question, but any conversation needed a start, whether it was stupid or not.

"Sleepless and sad to my very soul, Moony."

"Same for me." Remus sighed, a sad and anguished sound. "I cannot stop thinking about everything that has happened to Harry because of us. I cannot get Ron's and Hermione's conversation out of my mind. Part of me feels guilty about intruding on what was supposed to be a private conversation between intimate friends, but part of me is glad that I did. I think we all needed to hear that, especially Albus. They may be children, but only in years, not in thoughts and experience. And even the youngest of children could have a wisdom that surpasses adults."

Sirius took a sip of his chocolate. His silver-blue eyes, the colour of the ocean after a storm, were bright with a fierce grief-tempered intensity. "Remus," he started hesitantly, silently, as though struggling to control himself. "Do you…do you think I am to blame? Is Harry's pain and Harry's suffering my fault? Is the situation we are facing today my fault?"

"No, Sirius. None of us here are without blame in this matter. At that moment, we did what we thought was for the best, though the results received turned out to be totally, wholly opposite of what we had hoped for. As the Muggles said: _The road to Hell is paved with good intentions._ No one wanted what had happened to happen. But it did." He ran a hand through his hair. It was evident that it took every ounce of his inner strength to keep from breaking down. "Besides, pointing the finger at one another will not solve anything. We cannot change the past."

"Yes. We cannot change the past, but do you think we would even have a chance to protect the future for the better?"

"What do you mean, Sirius?"

Sirius took a large gulp of chocolate to choke down the rising sob in his throat. He was growing hot with torment. "I meant Harry. Ron was right about one thing: if Harry had wanted to come back, he would have a long time ago. The fact that he did not…it says more than we can imagine, right? It actually says a good deal about his true thoughts and true feelings with regards to us and the League. Do you think he will give us another chance? Do you think he will ever forgive us?"

Remus opened his mouth, and then closed it. There was nothing he could say. No comforting assurances he could give, no brilliant theories to disprove Sirius' claims. But the honest answer was too terrible to even think about it. So his reply was the best he could give under the current circumstances: "I do not know, Sirius. I honestly do not know."

Sirius gave a low broken chuckle. "There was a time where I believed that "I do not know" did not exist in your dictionary, Remus."

"I am flattered by your high opinion of my intelligence, Sirius, but I have to disappoint you: I am not omniscient."

"But you knew James and Lily. And you know our Harry. You spent more time with him than I ever had." _And I have no one to blame but myself for that. I never should have gone after that rat. It has cost me everything._

"It is because I know and had spent _some time_ with Harry that I do not know what choice he will make. As confusing as it sounds, Sirius, it is because I know Harry that I do not know what he would do now. There are similarities between him and his parents, yes, but more than a few differences too. Do not forget: he may be their son, but he is also a unique individual in his own right, with his own mind, his own judgement, his own heart, and so on."

"Are you telling me that our Harry is a law unto himself?"

"In a way. That is why I do not know what he will do now." Remus took a drink of his chocolate. "I would love to be all-knowing, but I am not."

"Just like how Albus is not, though he has unknowingly deluded himself into thinking that he is. Oh, yes, the usual: _everything that I do is for the Greater Good._"

For a moment the only sound in the room was them drinking their chocolate. Finally, Remus cleared his throat. "Why are you not yelling?"

Sirius stared at him, puzzled. "What?"

"Albus. You are angry with him, are you not? You have been furiously angry with him the instant we got into this mess. You have wanted to vent, have you not? Well, go ahead. I have already cast a soundproof spell. Curse at him like a hardcore sailor. Shriek about the part he has played in all this. Throw a tantrum about what he has done. Merlin, plot to turn him into a goat for real. I will not stop you or defend him. I swear I will not. He is not in my good books anymore, let alone my Christmas list. He deserves every bit of verbal abuse you could whip up."_ I would love to help, but years of refinement have rendered my verbal capabilities unsuitable for the task._

Sirius was silent for several moments, and then he drank the last of his chocolate and looked at his last surviving Marauder-friend in the eye. "I may have a bad temper, Remus, and I may not have your brains, but just like Ron said: _even one who is not the sharpest tool in the shed can think. Reflect._ Yes, I am angry with Dumbledore. Furiously angry. Angrier than I can ever express. But I also know that whatever revenge I could enact on him will not solve anything. It will not help Harry. It will not give him the childhood that he should have had; it will not give him the innocence he has lost. It will not heal his heart. And need I remind you that our hands are not clean in this matter to begin with?"

Remus moaned aloud. Both sides of him – the man and the wolf – had never been so grieved. He brushed away a tear. "No, you do not need to. You are right. We will be hypocrites to point the finger at him. We have failed Harry. Failed worse than Albus has, perhaps, considering what James and Lily had done for us."

"There are two sorry pairs here. One is Ron and Hermione. The other is you and me." Sirius took Remus' hand in his and rubbed it with his thumb gently. Tears were welling in his eyes, turning them liquid silver. The werewolf noted the lines etched in his friend's face, once a place where only laughter and witticisms reigned. But everything they had been forced to go through had aged him brutally and prematurely. "We have been given to see ourselves for what we have become, and yet we have responded like spoiled, selfish brats: unwilling to be taught and resentful of our discipline."

"But you and Ron seem reconciled, I think." He looked at him closely. "Whereas I am only resigned, and Hermione is getting closer to the verge of it."

Sirius gave a laugh that sounded more like a sob. But his hand did not stop rubbing Remus' in an attempt at consolation, and Remus was reminded again as to why, through it all, Sirius was one of his most intimate friends. The Grim could occasionally be immature and downright childish, but his heart was in the right place, and when the situation called for it he was there to provide a listening ear and offer what consolations he could. "Oh, no, Remus, no! I am not reconciled, and I reckon neither is Ron in his heart of hearts. Harry might not know this, might not believe this, but there are still people in this world that has disappointed him so who love and care for him. Not as the legendary Boy-Who-Lived, not as the prophesied Chosen One, but as his own person. Too bad there is no chance of him believing that now, right?"

Remus stared at him, sober and grave.

"What do you think James and Lily would say if they saw what we have done to Harry, Remus? What do you think they would have said? What do you think they would do?" Sirius scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, his voice strained with unspeakable regret. "Some godfather I turned out to be, huh? I failed Harry. I failed us all."

Remus was up and around behind him in a flash, putting his arms around him. "I have as well, Sirius. You did not do it alone. You had plenty of help. All of us had failed to act when we should, and had failed to see the signs, including me. I believe that now, in James' and Lily's eyes, I am as unforgivable as you and Albus and Severus are. I stood idly by while Harry suffered and did not notice."

"Why is it that we people will only realise our mistakes when it is too late?" Sirius demanded, unable to hold back his tears. He felt hot moisture on his neck and knew that Remus was crying as well. "And why is it that we are still so cruel and so selfish that we still hope for the best, when we not deserve it at all?"

"Sirius?"

"This is the cruel selfish part of me saying it, Remus: I want Harry to come back to us." Sirius shuddered, and Remus held him tighter, as though keeping him from being swept away by a flow of cold black despair. "I want him to come back. I want him to know that we are sorry, and that we could change. I want him to see that we can change for the better. I want him to realise that we can help him put all the sad things away, and build a bright happy future here in this world altogether." He confessed desperately. "I want him to graduate from Hogwarts as Head Boy, find a worthy job, and have a family of his own. Merlin, I want him to give me god-grandchildren to spoil rotten." He met Remus' eyes. "But now…it is all wishful thinking, is it not? All that is never going to happen."

"Do not say that, Sirius. Since you have been so open-hearted with me, it is only fair that I return the favour now. Let me tell you: I want what you want, as much as you do. Besides, we still do not know what kind of decision Harry will make. The Justice League is comprised of noble and honourable people of their word, and they have made it clear that they will respect Harry's final decision, no matter what it is. Perhaps we could even reach a compromise of some kind." Remus observed. "Sirius, the past is behind us, and we cannot change it. It does not help, but it is a fact. We have to focus on the future, no matter how bleak it may be. As I keep telling you, beating ourselves up over our errors will not fix anything."

"But it is so difficult, Remus," Sirius said. "I feel so wretched, I want to apologise, but I know that does not really help anything, and there is the possibility that Harry will not believe how sorry I am for everything." He gulped, his tumultuous emotions surging beyond control. "I do not know what we are going to do, Remus. I am scared. I am so, so scared. My godson is slipping away from us, perhaps forever, as he can no longer stand this forsaken wizarding world. I want him happy and safe and free to make his own choices, but I also do not want him to lose him…"

Remus patted his hair. "Never mind, Padfoot, let it out. I am here."_ James, Lily, if you two can hear me, we are sorry. We are not asking for forgiveness, for we know we do not deserve it. We are just saying that, for how we have failed you both, how we have failed Harry, we are truly sorry._

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><p>…<em>broken Harry. Beyond repair…<em>

…_made him want to run away…He really has run away because it became too much for him…_

…_some wounds that could run too deep for healing, too painful for forgiveness…_

…_Harry will spiritually die if he comes back, if not _both_ physically and spiritually…_

…_all he will get is a puppet, a soulless doll. Something no better than a corpse…_

Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his office. Needless to say, tonight was a sleepless night for him as well, especially after what he had heard. He could not stop thinking about Ron's unexpected outburst. He could not stop thinking about the private chat between Ron and Hermione, which the surprisingly concerned twins had convinced every one of them to listen into – much to their mother's initial chagrin. He could not stop re-reading Harry's medical report...TO BE CONTINUED

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><p>Author's Second Note: That is all for now, folks. Please do remember that I am always open to suggestions, and please tell me what you all honestly think and feel about this. This second extract is also meant for you all to help me determine as to whether or not I have lost my touch, and if you all believe I can do a good job at this Crossover story. Thank you, everyone...<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own neither the Justice League nor Harry Potter. I just borrow them for personal amusement, no money made.

Author's Note: I just could not resist yet another drabble, and so here we are. This scene is centered on the first confrontation between Dumbledore and the League over Harry, and actually takes place between the first and second drabbles that I have posted so far. I have also applied material from _The Lost Prophecy_ chapter in _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ due to necessity, though there are obviously alterations here and there to make all fit.

Warning: There is an untold deal of what they would call "Dumbledore-bashing" here. So if you are a Dumbledore fan, please turn back now. If you are not one for such scenes of shaming and guilt-tripping, please also turn back now. You all have been warned.

**P.S.: This is a reminder as to those who wonder as to how Harry ended up with the Justice League - so far, what I have been doing are only DRABBLES, EXTRACTS, and hence obviously not a full story that starts from Chapter One.**

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><p><em>This must have been how Daniel felt when he was forced into the lion's den,<em> Albus Dumbledore mused to himself. _After all, even absolute faith in the Almighty did not equate to complete immunity from fear. To fear is as natural to breathe._

The instant he was in the legendary Watchtower that he had heard so much about, but never thought he would have a chance to set foot in, Dumbledore's calm seasoned confidence could not help but be shaken by the resentment in the air, so thick that it seemed to simmer like a boil.

The fact that the resentment was directed at him actually made him feel doubt…and more than a little fear.

_This is not good._

The entire Justice League – both the Originals and the expanded – was present, and more than one was scrutinising him with something remarkably like hatred. Especially the heroines like Wonder Woman and Zatanna. The rest wore expressionless countenances that did not make him feel any better at all. In fact, they only served to make the uneasy sensation at the pit of his stomach solidify into a heavier substance, for if he did not know better, he fancied that they were actually contemplating attacking him.

_All right, enough of this, Albus. Do not let yourself get distracted. You are here for Harry._ "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I am –"

"Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and Conqueror of the former Dark Lord Grindelwald." Superman interrupted him, his perfect politeness a classic contrast to his grim face and his hard eyes as they regarded the old wizard, who could not conceal a glimmer of surprise. "We have our sources, Mr. Dumbledore. The President has seen fit to send us your particulars beforehand. Harry has also told us a great deal about you as well." _Especially as to how you have been using him, though he is too young and innocent and trusting to fully see it. But fortunately for him, we are not._

Dumbledore was torn between being still on his guard and relaxing in his stance. They might be superheroes who saved the day on a regular basis, but they were still strangers, strangers whom he only had bits and pieces of information about gathered from newspapers and from what he had heard. It was unnerving to have virtual strangers know so much about him, especially given how imperative secrecy and concealment were for someone like him, and yet it was also assuring. Now he was spared the trouble of explaining everything, and chances were that he could have Harry back without any misunderstandings or troubles.

_Or, at the very least, I could see him once, if he is not recovered enough yet to come back with me._

Batman grew very still and something dark flickered across his face as his brilliant mind deduced Dumbledore's thoughts. He knew it was there, he knew he was failing to hide his sudden fury, and his entire dark costume accentuated his impression of pure, cold menace. But he barely cared. He had grown to love Harry as much as he did Dick and Tim, and this foolish old man was one of the most prominent reasons for Harry's unhappiness. "We know why you are here, but we have to disappoint you. You cannot have Harry."

Dumbledore had to be given credit: if he was stunned by this proclamation, he did not show the least trace of it. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Batman?"

"It is just Batman." The Dark Knight of Gotham stepped forward. He had settled with the League earlier on to let him do the main talking, for if he was going to be Harry's guardian, then it was natural for him to be the one to make the strongest stand imaginable against those who opposed it. "I do not appreciate courtesies from one such as _you._ And do not pretend to have misheard me: _you cannot have Harry._"

Usually, in a moment like this, Superman would have stepped in to censure Batman for his appalling rudeness, or at least prevent things from growing too ugly. But he did not. Not after he had seen the length and breadth of Harry's vulnerability and sadness, not after he had heard the entirety of a tale where an innocent child only had pain and sorrow as his constant companions. Part of him was, in fact, taking a morbid satisfaction at seeing Batman put down a man whom, every one of them knew, was completely unaccustomed to defiance of any sort.

It was time someone took a stand for Harry.

Time for Dumbledore to realise that Harry was not a pawn but a person.

Time for him to see the extent of what his self-assurance and his "Greater Good" nonsense had done to Harry.

"I am indeed here because of Harry." Dumbledore said. "But judging from the look of things, I am afraid that there has been some serious misunderstanding."

"Oh, there is no misunderstanding, Dumbledore. We are not as ignorant of the facts as you would like us to believe. We know all about Voldemort, the circumstances of his downfall and his recent resurrection, and as to how…_well_ Harry has fared because of your care."

Dumbledore gave a deep gloomy sigh. He should have expected this. "I believe you are referring to the Dursleys."

There had been uproar that day at 12 Grimmauld Place when the Dursleys were publicly exposed as nephew-abusers of the worst sort, and all the damage-control that could be done was to restrain Sirius from attacking Dumbledore and running away to search for Harry. Remus had, after ensuring his fellow Marauder could not do anything stupid, turned and actually spit at Dumbledore in the face. Molly lamented, Minerva scolded, while an unnaturally silent and sober Ron brewed Hermione and Ginny (both of whom were breaking down in indignation and sorrow) tea and led them back to their bedroom. The second-youngest Weasley, who used to be so vocal in his thoughts and feelings to the point of being tactless at times, had been acting strange ever since Harry disappeared, but now he had a new companion in the company of "behaving unlike usual self": Severus Snape. When the terrible news was aired and subsequently confirmed as irrefutable fact, the Potions Master had simply sank into a chair, staring blankly into space like a fool, as if the one-sided war between the reality before him and his deep-rooted prejudice-stemming beliefs was too much for him to bear.

Believe it or not, Dumbledore had felt like the lowest of the low, wondering what horrors he had forced Harry to endure since infancy in the name of keeping him as safe as possible. It was something of a miracle that the two blows had not crushed him completely: when Harry had disappeared from the Dursleys, he had been ill with anxiety, worried beyond belief that something bad will happen to his favourite boy without the protection of the Blood Wards. Then the Dursleys were revealed to be cruel abusive monstrosities who had made his boy's life more miserable than sin, and he was forced to deal with the inevitable wave of guilt and regret that engulfed him the instant he realised how he was responsible for it.

The recollection of how he had dismissed Harry's plea for help back then only made the impact of the blows harder than anything ever could. It was without doubt a shame second in magnitude and irredeemableness only to how Ariana had died.

"I am. I believe this medical report will make everything clear." Batman's voice, colder than Arctic ice, broke the train of Dumbledore's thoughts as the Dark Knight tossed a file to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who caught it with skillful ease – something that caused a twinge of dissatisfaction in the Dark Knight, who had been hoping that the file would hit the stupid old man in the face.

_Well, no matter. We can definitely do better than that._

As Dumbledore read the report, the colour drained from his face faster than water evaporating in the hottest midsummer month. His entire form trembled. His grip on the file tightened and tightened till it seemed like in was in grave danger of being torn asunder. What remnants of the twinkle in his eyes died away completely._ What have I done?!_ rang loud and clear in his mind, over and over like a fanatic mantra.

If the League noted his reaction, they neither mentioned it out loud nor took into particular consideration. As the saying went, _there is no use crying over spilled milk._

When Dumbledore was composed enough for coherent speech, he closed the file, put it into a levitation suspension beside him, and looked at the League with a straight direct gaze. His eyes were hauntingly sad and soft. "I see indeed."

"Give us one good reason as to why we should let you have Harry back." Batman inquired, as soft and sleek as silk, though everyone could sense the underlying tone of dark wrath. "Just one would do."

Dumbledore had no choice but to say: "I do not have one."

Batman gazed at him with that legendary piercing stare that would be unflinching even when confronting Death itself. "How could you do this to that child?"

"I swear that I had never meant for this to happen."

"Well, it happened anyway. How could you have had a hand in such atrocities, and to a child at that?"

"And you want to know what the most unbelievable thing is, Dumbledore? He still loves you. Despite everything you have done to him, he still loves you. We can see it. We can sense it. He is more hurt than angry with you for your hand in his unhappiness, when any other in his position would have wished you dead. His heart beats with such love, such warmth, and such compassion, and yet you played a prominent part in the attempt to silence it forever. How could you have let this happen to him?"

Batman and Green Arrow could not have chosen their words better. Dumbledore staggered as though struck. Though he knew he well-deserved the contempt, it was still torture for him to hear the truth of the faults that he seemed to have evaded until now.

For a moment there was silence as Dumbledore and the League stared at each other, then: "I know that whatever I say right now will seem like excuses, but I do have my reasons for sending Harry to the Dursleys after his parents were killed. I know you all have no grounds to believe me, but I am not a cruel man by nature, and I am not the sort of person who will approve of this sort of abuse on any child. May I please be given a chance to explain why I did what I did back then?"

The League exchanged glances with one another, and then at a nod from Batman, Wonder Woman drew the golden lasso hanging by her hip. "Do you know what this is, Mr. Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore nodded. "The Lasso of Truth, woven from the Girdle of Gaia, the Goddess of Earth. As its name suggests, it is able to draw the total and absolute truth from whoever is under its influence, be he mortal or immortal."

"Exactly. As you have pointed out, there is no reason for us to trust what you say, but we also know that it is only fair that we hear your side of the story now, after we had heard Harry's. We have learned enough of you to know that you are not the kind of person to do things for no appropriate reasons, so let _this_ (Wonder Woman held up her lasso) be the trusting grounds for us. It is only right that you have your say in the matter as well, and this will verify your credibility. Is it fine with you?"

"Yes, it is."

"Oh, and just to let you know, Harry told us his side under its influence as well. He insisted on it, despite the fact that it was as plain as day that he would have told the whole naked truth even without it. He said that he needed to hear it for himself, as he had been running away from it for as long as his memory served."

It was a low blow, yes, but the Amazon Princess could not resist. She had no intention of making things easy for the old man who had made Harry's life an utter misery, and was determined to cut him down whenever she could.

The instant the Lasso of Truth was looped around Dumbledore's waist; he took a deep shuddering breath as the indescribable power of the lasso coursed through him, overwhelming him with its intensity and the rapidly dawning realisation that no level of Occlumency will help him escape its grasp. Even if he did not intend to be honest, he was left with no choice but to be now. Nothing could he say now that was not the honest, gospel truth: "Five years ago, Harry arrived at Hogwarts, safe and whole as I had intended. Well – not quite whole. He had suffered, though I have sincerely hoped and prayed that he will not. I have always wanted to see the good in people, always believed that everyone has a light, and I had hoped that Petunia's revulsion of magic will not extend to include her only nephew. But I was also aware of the fact that people could ignore the light in themselves as easily as they ignore the darkness, and there was a possibility that I was condemning Harry to ten dark and difficult years when I left him on that doorstep. At my first glance of him when he set foot in Hogwarts, I knew that my hopes had been wishful thinking, and that my despairs had gone from possibility to reality.

Even then, however, I was ignorant as to the full extent of what Harry had been forced to endure in his relatives' hands. I had not an inkling as to what was going on behind closed doors. I was naïve enough to believe that it was merely chores, or insufficient nourishment, or lack of affection, or even all of the three, but not to the degree where a life was in the greatest danger of being extinguished. Harry himself said nothing in the beginning, though I have to confess that I have, on the occasion, caught something that I cannot explain in his eyes, which are far too old and too sad for his age. But I choose to go along with his silence, not just because of – as you may say – my cowardice at seeking the truth beneath appearances, but also for another reason that I believe outweighed all others: Harry's survival itself. Then, it happened once or twice as the years passed: he came to me, pleading to be placed somewhere else apart from the Dursleys, confessing how unhappy he was there, but never fully forthcoming as to why he was so unhappy. I am ashamed – more ashamed than I can ever say that I did not take his pleas to heart. I am ashamed to say that I choose to be blinded by my desire for things to be one way, and unwilling to admit that they are not." At this point, Dumbledore had to close his eyes to arrest the flow of tears at how he had turned away at the very moments where he was most needed by the one he cherished most of all. His face twisted in shame and heartbreak, but it did not touch any of the League's hearts. What was his remorse compared to the torment Harry had endured because of him? All it did was just to convince them that he did, at the end of the day, have some sort of conscience.

_Where was it then when Harry had been suffering right under his nose, and all the signs where there for him to pick up?_

When Dumbledore had regained enough control to proceed with his explanation and opened his eyes, he seemed to have aged another hundred years in an instant. "Harry and you all might ask, and with good reason, why I did it. Why could some wizarding family not have taken him in? Many would have done so more than gladly, and would have been honoured and delighted to raise him as a son.

My answer is that my priority is to keep Harry _alive._ Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters – and many of them are almost as terrible as he is – were still at large, angry, desperate and violent. And I had to make my decision, too, with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe Voldemort was gone forever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure, too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed Harry.

I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be effective if he ever returned to full power.

But I knew, too, where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. Harry would be protected by an ancient magic of which Voldemort knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated – to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that Harry's mother, Lily, had died to save him. Lily gave Harry a lingering protection Voldemort never expected, a protection that flows in his veins to this day. Has Harry told you all anything about this protection? Or is there a need for me explain this in detail?"

"No need, Dumbledore." This was Batman, whose eyes were unblinkingly intensely fixed on the Headmaster the instant he began his tale. Far be it for him to question the efficiency of Diana's weapons after all these years, but it never hurt to have another safeguard for any lies or concealments. "Harry has told us about it. He said you said that it was a powerful magic that will cause evil to suffer either agonising pain or even disintegration should it touch his bare skin. But Voldemort has managed to overcome this barrier since he had taken Harry's blood for his resurrection ritual."

"In a way. At that moment, the best option imaginable was for me to put my trust in Lily's blood. I sent Harry to her sister, Petunia, her only remaining relative," he moaned. "I see now that it had to be the worst mistake I have ever made, but believe or not, I had never meant to hurt Harry."

Green Arrow gave a bitter scornful chuckle that echoed the general disbelief of everyone present at this audacious statement, but said nothing. After all, there was plenty of time _later_ for him to do what he wanted to do to Dumbledore.

The chuckle caused the Headmaster to sag, as if it was yet another blow, but he carried on: "Petunia took Harry. She may have taken him grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet she still took him, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon him. Lily's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give Harry. While he could still call home the place where Lily's blood dwells, he cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. Yes, he had shed Lily's blood, but it lives on in her son and her sister. Her blood became her son's refuge. Harry needed to return there only once a year, but as long as he still called it home, while he is there, Voldemort can neither hurt him nor touch a single strand of hair on his head. Petunia knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with Harry, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing him houseroom may well have kept him alive for the past fifteen years." He sighed. "But I know now that she is done with it. She is fed up with it. If not, the situation will not be as it is now.

Five years ago then, he arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. He was not a pampered little Prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far my plan was working well.

And then…well, Harry has told you all about the events of his first year at Hogwarts. He rose significantly to the challenge that faced him and sooner – much sooner – than I had anticipated, he found himself face to face with Voldemort. He survived again. He did more. He delayed his return to full power and strength. He fought a man's fight. I was…prouder of him than I can say.

Yet there was a flaw in this plan of mine. An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undoing of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my plan should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as he lay in the hospital wing, weak from his struggle with Voldemort."

"What are you saying, Dumbledore?" Flash asked, confused.

"You are referring to when Harry had asked you why Voldemort had tried to kill him when he was a baby, all those years ago as he lay in the hospital wing." Batman explained before Dumbledore could.

"Yes. Ought I to have told him then? Well, I decided against it. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell him when he was eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age.

But I should have recognised the danger signs then. I should have asked myself why I did not feel more disturbed that he had already asked me the question to which I knew, one day, I must give a terrible answer. I should have recognised that I was too happy to think that I did not have to do it on that particular day…he was too young, much too young.

And then we entered his second year at Hogwarts. And once again he met challenges even grown wizards have never faced; once again he acquitted himself beyond my wildest dreams. He did not ask me again, however, why Voldemort had left that mark on him. We discussed his scar, oh yes…we came very close to the subject. Why did I not tell him everything?

Well, it seemed to me, that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven, to receive such information. I allowed him to leave my presence, bloodstained, exhausted but exhilarated, and if I felt a twinge of unease that I ought, perhaps, to have told him then, it was swiftly silenced. He was still so young, you see, and I could not find it in myself to spoil that night of triumph…" Dumbledore trailed off slightly. "Do you see, ladies and gentlemen? Do you see the flaw in my plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."

"So you are saying –" Green Arrow started.

Dumbledore cut him off by simply stating, "I care about Harry. Yes, as unbelievable and incredulous and shameless as it sounds given the current situation, I do care about Harry. I cared about him too much. I cared more for his happiness than his knowing the truth, more for his peace of mind than my plan, more for his life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects us fools who love to act."

The League exchanged looks. This was turning out to be more complex than they had believed it was: despite whatever they had perceived of Dumbledore's actions, he truly cared for Harry.

_But was that sufficient enough?_

"Is there a defense? I defy anyone who has watched Harry as closely as I have – and I have watched him more closely than he could have imagined – not wanting to save him more pain than he had already suffered." Dumbledore went on, slowly taking on a passionate fervour as he voiced those innermost feelings he had concealed from almost all. "What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now he was alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that would have such a person on my hands."

_Yes, you might have an exceeding pride in Harry, and though you have tried to prevent it, you have still caused him an untold deal of pain, and it is all the more torturous given how much he trusted you to be there for him in times of greatest need. It has cost him his innocence, his childhood, and – despite all of our efforts to convince him otherwise – his own sense of worth._

"We entered his third year. I watched from afar as he struggled to repel Dementors, as he found Sirius, learned what he was and rescued him. Was I to tell him then, at the moment when he had triumphantly snatched his godfather from the jaws of the Ministry? But now, at the age of thirteen, my excuses were running out. Young he may be, but he had proved he was exceptional. My conscience was uneasy, ladies and gentlemen. I knew the time must come soon…"

_Not soon enough, Dumbledore._ _Not soon enough. _Batman and Green Arrow shared a thoughtful glance as their experienced minds registered this statement. Years of painstaking study in the human nature made them skeptical. _There are many, many ways of caring those special ones under your charge, and you have made the biggest mistake in your choice of method. You should know that forewarned is forearmed, and Harry is unfortunately one who needs all the forearms he could possibly acquire. And in the midst of your obsession with what you believe to be his future destiny, you have neglected his present. Your insane-bordering focus with Harry's survival has led you to overlook Harry's happiness, when you should know that the two are actually linked as one, and it is nothing short of a miracle that Harry is even alive today. If he had been any other, suicide will have been viewed as a one-way ticket to Paradise._

"But he came out of the maze last year, having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so narrowly himself…and I did not tell him, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon. I have been waiting for a suitable opportunity to impart to him the knowledge I have kept from him for so long, because he has proved that I should have placed the burden upon him before this. But then…well, all this happened. My only defense is this, ladies and gentlemen: I have watched him struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through Hogwarts and I could not bring myself to add another – the greatest one of all. Yes, my mistake in placing Harry with the Dursleys proved to be a most foolish one, one that has caused Harry no small amount of harm, but it was still an honest one on my part, and I had done it with the best of intentions."

_Too bad the road to Hell is paved with good intentions._

"I know now that I have done a terrible, terrible thing, but I not done it out of any cruel or malicious intent. I confess that I have kept important secrets that Harry is entitled to know, but I had withheld the weight of that knowledge to spare his shoulders. I do not want him to struggle under it – or worse, be crushed by it. That is all I have to say with regards to why I did what I did."

There was a pause of absolute silence as the Lasso of Truth was removed, and everyone digested Dumbledore's confession. Everything would definitely be easier if the old man was genuinely evil, but he was not, only another morally ambiguous individual with sincere reasons as to his actions, very much like Amanda Waller when she led Project Cadmus. He was not another typical Big Bad whom they could beat to pulp and throw into prison.

But there were loopholes provided by the combination of his and Harry's stories, and those they will exploit to defend their stand against him.

Yes, it was subjective as to whether the old man was evil, but that he was one of the primary causes of Harry's unhappiness was definitely not subjective.

"Your motives may be good, we will give you that." Diana took up the distasteful task of starting first. Her tone had softened a little, but her stance was still defensive. Her startling eyes were as cold and hard as sapphires. "But you still move people around like pieces on a chessboard. This entire story has given us the impression that the entire wizarding world – especially those who love and trust and look up to you – are locked in a cataclysmic chess match between you and Voldemort. And Harry is your White King, the pawn who is always bearing the brunt of every blow there is."

"Miss Wonder Woman, I have nev–"

"My mother and tutors allowed me to hold my first weapon only after I was taught and had at least mastered the basics of _chess._ They told me that it was essential, since chess was a violent game that simultaneously trained one's mind as well as revealed how one's mind operated." Diana went on, as if Dumbledore had not spoken. "I had never understood it. I had always believed that chess was nothing more than a relieve from boredom. But now I understand what I was told as a child, and what chess could truly encompass. It might seem to be an innocent pastime, but in actuality, decisions that could alter the final outcome of the match are being made. Like any other battle, losses and sacrifices are inevitable if victory is to be achieved. The players are the generals with the power of life and death in their hands."

Foreboding crept up Dumbledore's spine, making him keep silent even as the remnants of his pride protested against the insinuation.

"It does not matter if one makes a mistake and loses a match, for he or she could always clear the board and play again. It is not the end of everything if a piece is lost, for he or she might always have another chance. But answer us this, Mr. Dumbledore: what right do _you_ have to make such decisions, when it is now so blatantly obvious that your honest mistakes could result in such horrendous consequences? And how it is possible for you to have the audacity to think that you still could take Harry back after all that has happened to him because of _you,_ and that we – _The Justice League_ – would just sit by and let you do so?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, and then closed it. He hung his head. "I assumed too much, I know that now. I missed out an extremely great deal while I was making my long-term plans for the Greater Good."

"Too late for you to realise that, do you not think?" Batman managed to make it evident that he had raised an eyebrow under the cowl. "Though I loathe doing so, I am forced to accept that your actions towards Harry are backed by reasons stemming from positive intentions. I am also forced to believe that you are truly sorry for what you have done to Harry. But neither the reasons for your actions nor your heartfelt apologies will resolve anything. _You_ are one of the primary causes of Harry being bent and broken in every way, and I will be damned before I release him back into your care to be impaired further by your misguided plans for his well-being."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have never ever viewed Harry as a pawn, or as you all have so eloquently put it, _my White King_. I have never thought of him as a puppet that I could always control through strings. I know that he is a _person._ I –"

Batman interrupted him with a laugh, a low sad dark laugh that made whatever protests Dumbledore had on his tongue die a sudden death. "Then why is it that your actions all indicate otherwise, Dumbledore? Have you not heard _actions speak louder than words?_ Or that _those who sacrifice freedom for security deserve neither freedom nor security?_ You have sacrificed Harry's freedom for a security that is now proven to be existent only in your mind. If you had any shred of decency, you would have apologised and just left once you have that report and given your explanation. Truth be known, you are simultaneously the most amusing yet most disgusting person I have ever had the bittersweet privilege to meet. I now understand why Harry wondered what it would take for you to remove your grasp on his life."

Dumbledore was aghast. This was the worst accusation imaginable. And coming from Harry himself…"He told you that? Is that what Harry thinks of me?"

"I am afraid he does." Green Arrow agreed, a sardonic grin forming on his face when he caught a glimpse of how Dumbledore's eyes glazed over with tears as the damning statement sunk in. "He told us everything. His deepest feelings, his innermost emotions, everything. And each and every one of those beans spilled is sour, bitter, and sickly green in the supreme thanks to you. But then again, it is no surprise, for what was he supposed to think? You were the one who dismissed the abuse he endured at the hands of those monsters as exaggeration, because you were too much of a coward to contemplate otherwise. You were the one who insisted on his returning to those monsters who very nearly did kill him in both body and soul this time. Let me tell you: when we found and took him into our care, we did not even know if he would pull through despite having the very best of science, medicine, and even magic at our disposal. When he recovered, he was still so worn that he was only slightly more than a shadow, and just a push in the wrong direction was necessary for his condition to worsen. What was he supposed to think, Dumbledore? What are we supposed to think? It could not be more obvious that, no matter how much you love and care for him, he was still a puppet whose strings you pulled, something to be toyed and destroyed at will as you pleased."

It was not, strictly speaking, all true. Harry _had_ indeed been weak and pale when he embarked on the process of recovery after finally pulling through, but he had not been a true wraith either. Though the recollections he shared had been mostly negative, it was undeniable that there had been some positive parts, though so few, and Harry had managed to find it within himself to be lenient with the terms he used towards the Headmaster throughout his story. He had not gone to any extremes, and had definitely not applied metaphors such as "toy" or "puppet".

But unlike Harry, Oliver Queen had no such qualms of going easy on those he deemed enemies. He was going straight for the kill.

"I have said it before, and I will say it again: I have never viewed Harry as my puppet." Dumbledore protested, in a silent cold voice that earned him heavier frowns from almost all assembled. His usually merry eyes were now blazing a white-blue with tears of remorse and rage. Yes, he had made a terrible mistake, but to be continuously accused of being Harry's puppeteer was more than he could bear. "Not once have I ever viewed him as a chess-piece, or a toy, or something that I can manipulate and destroy at will. As I have told you all previously, ladies and gentlemen, I love Harry. I love and care for him more than I did anyone else in my life."

"Then your love and care is worse than hatred." Green Arrow pursued the argument fiercely, almost baring his teeth in a snarl. "For they brought the boy to the brink of despair, and would have pushed him into the abyss of death itself if we had not been there to save him. Just in the nick of time, I might add. Dozens in your world claim to adore him when they actually abhor him, but it was _your loving care_ that almost killed him, Dumbledore. It is all in that file. You, as Bats here has pointed out, are one of the primary causes for a poor innocent child being abused in every way!"

"I –"

"Save it, Dumbledore, it does not matter anymore. No matter what you say, no matter how you protest, all of the bad things that no decent person would wish inflicted upon a child have happened to Harry because of _you_." Batman observed. "What were you fancying yourself as, seriously? The Fairy Godmother in Cinderella? That your school is Prince Charming and happily ever after combined? That Harry's wand and books and wizarding equipment is a glass slipper? Well, in case you are still ignorant of it, the "glass slipper" has all been burned by the monsters that you have forced upon Harry. The "Prince Charming happily ever after" glamour has long since worn off for him and one of the last things he views you as is a Fairy Godparent. If he has, then he would have sought you out through us the instant he could function on his own again. But he did not, and he would rather be amongst us strangers than with you and your lot. It says a good deal, does it not?"

Dumbledore trembled with emotion; he had seldom been so shaken since Ariana died. All of the graceful moon-cool composure that he had cultivated since childhood was unravelling fast at being forced to confront what he had truly become. "Ladies and gentlemen, as I have said, if I had known what was going to happen to that baby, I would have never left him on that doorstep. I would never condemn children to be abused so, even if they were the offspring of my very worst enemies."

"This is why we will not allow you to take Harry, and why we will do everything in our power to dissuade him from it if he is too tender-hearted to deny your pathetic pleas." Green Arrow spoke with contempt like poison in his voice. "Yes, you did not mean it, but it is just like what Bats said: the damage has still been done because of you, to the extent that you have absolutely no right to demand otherwise, or even try to make amends – if there is anything in you that could compel you to a guilt or a shame that is strong, permanent, and lasting, that is."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I –"

"I do have a few questions for you that pertain to your affection for Harry." J'onn spoke up, interrupting Dumbledore. His tone was underlined with steel and ice. "Far be it for me to question the authenticity of Diana's weapons…" he turned an apologetic glance at Wonder Woman, who stared at him curiously. "But…if you truly love and care for Harry, why did you turn the school he attend into a personal recruitment and training camp? Why did you not let it be the normal conducive environment of nurturing that it was supposed to be?"

Dumbledore was so tempted at this point to draw his wand and attack, though chances of salvaging his wounded pride were remote. It was with formidable effort that he held the wrath that was fueled by guilt and humiliation at bay. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Martian Manhunter?"

J'onn folded his arms. "I am talking about your Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Mr. Dumbledore. Harry has told us all about it, and I am sorry to say that no matter how I look at it, in this school, the negative aspects outweigh the positive ones by a million-fold. Yes," he held up a hand to stop Dumbledore from embarking on another tirade. "I am not unreasonable enough to believe that you could keep all circumstances under control, but for a wizard of your caliber, some of them most certainly are, and yet it is because of your dismissal of them that Harry has suffered so much."

"I am afraid that I do not understand you, Mr. Martian Manhunter."

"Very well, I shall explain. To begin with, I believe you will agree with me that any good school is supposed to be an environment where each and every student, regardless of race, language, religion, or background is supposed to feel safe, secure, and sound?"

"Of course."

"It is a place where students are not only taught the skills and knowledge necessary for their futures, but also to distinguish right from wrong and how to make the appropriate decisions?"

"Of course."

"It is an institute where all of the staff – principal and teachers – can be expected to provide a reliable positive example of how students are supposed to act and behave as independent adults, and can be trusted to impart wisdom and morals in a proper manner?"

"Of course."

"Then why is it that Hogwarts is not so?! Why is it that your school is not so?!" J'onn suddenly barked, startling the old man and some of his colleagues. They could count the times where the Martian had lost his temper in such a violent outburst with one hand, and his ability to keep a cool head even when it was obvious he was furious was legendary in the League. Those like Batman, Green Arrow, and Wonder Woman, however, were observing this with grim satisfaction. It was always the gentle ones who are the most terrifying when they unleash their wrath, and they could not think of a better recipient to this eruption. "Why is it that Hogwarts could amount to another Privet Drive for Harry?! What has that poor child ever done to you that you must treat him so, tossing him about from one prison to another? Oh, I am not done yet, so shut your trap, old man, before I plant my fist down and break your voice box for good!"

Some chuckled. Green Arrow could not help clapping. The Trinity exchanged a meaningful smiling glance. This was getting good.

"You already knew right from the start what kind of treatment Harry was going to receive as he grew in your world. At best, he would be viewed as a force of nature that could do no wrong, at worst, he would be regarded as a weapon either to kill or to be disposed of if it posed too much of a threat. Every right or wrong he does, no matter how insignificant, determines whether he will be mobbed or shunned. It was part of the very reason why you deposited him with those cruel, conscienceless monsters against all decent wishes. You wanted to keep him away from all that madness, and on this point at least, I agree that he should be. No one deserves to endure that kind of madness. But why is it that you did nothing to protect him from it when he set foot into your school? He was only eleven, Mr. Dumbledore. He was still a pure, innocent, naïve child who trusted you because he had heard nothing but good of you, and that you had allowed him a form of escape from the abuse – which you are responsible for, I might add.

He was a desperately lost, desperately frightened child who needed kindness and warmth to heal in body and mind. But because of your inactions, he received so little. The Weasleys and Miss. Granger are but a drop compared to the ocean that is the rest of the school, and even then their support is not always as constant or positive as one might have hoped. Why did you fail that child so? Why did you allow the eleven-year-old who trusted and looked up to you to undergo live-and-death situations every year he was at your school? Why did you, the official leader of the side of light and goodness, fail to heed his cries for help? Why did you let him grow into the fifteen-year-old who was so disillusioned with life that he had to runaway to live a lie? Why did you do that, Mr. Dumbledore?"

In the full intensity of the Martian's fathomless yellow gaze, Dumbledore felt the last of his pride-fuelled anger ebb away and he hung his head again. If the League was intent on making him become thoroughly disgusted with himself, they were accomplishing it remarkably well.

But they were far from done. They felt no remorse at bringing down the old man so low, and were beginning to wonder what else could be said to break him further.

It was Green Arrow who delivered the next round of jabs: "Just in case you do not fully grasp what my esteemed colleague is talking about, old man, it is your habit of letting your students run rampant and exert their prejudices however they wish without the fear of consequences. True, they might be children, and they…_debatably,_ that is…deserve second chances, but children will eventually mature into adults, and if they do not learn right from wrong at an early age, they will have no moral issues in just taking what they want regardless of other people's rights. It is about giving them boundaries, teaching them to be better people. And in this, old man, you and your staff have failed most miserably.

Harry has told us all about it. In his first year, at the very beginning, he was treated as some sort of unattainable idol, and then when he lost House points for trying to help a friend, he was downgraded from Mr. Popular to Mr. Hateful, and only managed to regain a position he never wanted to begin with after surviving a terrible ordeal that never should have happened at all. In his second year, all because of a so-called Dark ability – that again, he had neither asked for nor wanted, almost everyone was stupid enough to believe that he was the Heir of Slytherin, and responsible for letting loose a monster in the school, when everyone knows that this was the boy who once rid your world of its darkest evil and would not even hurt a fly. The only reason they "cleared" him of suspicion was because one of his best friends was attacked. Should not the phrase be: _innocent until proven guilty?_ Why did it turn to _guilty until proven innocent?_

In this third year, his perfectly justifiable fear of Dementors was made fun of, when everyone should know that it was actually an inviolate territory that should suffer no intrusion, especially considering what he could hear each time one of those soul-sucking monsters draws near him. In his fourth year, the school's attitude towards him was again torn between kissing his robes or spitting at him because of a stupid tournament that he never should have competed in, and the most disappointingly breaking thing was that one of his best friends, who had been with him through thick and thin for three years, was idiotic enough to be one of those who turned against him." Green Arrow took a breath as if to calm himself down, but everyone knew that he was still anything but calm. "Why did you let all this happen to the boy whom you claim to love and care for, Dumbledore? Why did you let him be treated so? He has already lost his parents because of Mr. Snake-Face, and you gave those monstrous Dursleys the chance to rob him of his childhood and later even his own sense of worth. Why did you do this? How could you do this?"

There was an intense silence. Albus Dumbledore stood statue-still, his face pale, and his entire demeanour sober and grave._ What had he done indeed…?_

"There are a few things that my illustrious colleagues have left out because of misguided kindness, but unfortunately for you, Dumbledore, I am bound by no inclination to be kind to you." Batman added, giving Green Arrow and J'onn a rare secretive smile before turning to face the Headmaster of Hogwarts with his habitual mask that induced fear through pure silent menace and midnight intimidation. "Why is it that someone like Severus Snape is entitled to teach at one of the most prestigious wand-wielding magical schools ever established? Why have you given teaching rights to someone who routinely and freely verbally abuses and discriminates his students without any scruples of conscience?"

On this, at least, Dumbledore had something to say. "That is a private matter between me and Severus, ladies and gentlemen. It has to do with Lily's memory. I cannot deny that Severus' teaching methods leave much to be desired, and that yours is not the first complaint I have received about him, but I am certain of his being a trustworthy helpful ally in the fight against Voldemort. It is yet another long story, but I can explain it all if you wish, and I will do it willingly under the constraints of the Lasso of Truth again to prove my credibility."

"We will leave it for another time." Batman said, halting Wonder Woman in her tracks. "I am perfectly sure that it will be another fascinating tale, but it will cause us to go out of point. To be honest, I am not in the least interested in what kind of agreement you have with a bitter, prejudiced git who is immature enough to feel the need to vent his anger on a dead man's son. The central issue at present is how Harry had suffered because of you, and Severus Snape is one of those reasons that exist because of you. Surely it was not beyond your capabilities for some other arrangement apart from giving him a teaching post, which he has definitely abused for his thoughtless selfishness? And even if _that_ was the only available option, surely as the Headmaster, his boss, and _his guarantor,_" Batman stressed the words, informing Dumbledore that he was aware of how he had vouched for Snape, preventing him from being sent to Azkaban, "it was within your legal rights to at least compel him to behave and teach in an appropriate manner that will benefit all students instead of his handpicked favourites, right?"

The look on Dumbledore's face and his silence made Batman want to laugh again, but he did not, for he knew it would sound hollow. The satisfaction he was feeling right now was an excruciatingly unhappy, depressingly black one, given how he knew that not even the harshest scolding he could give to Dumbledore would completely heal all wounds of the boy he had grown to love as his new son. Who should know it better than him? He, who had been dealt one wound at only eight, and was forced to bear it for the rest of his life. "In the muggle world, _our world,_ Severus Snape would have been sacked long ago and even arrested," he observed. "But not in the wizarding world, _your world,_ because the likes of you do not see it wrong for that the guiltless son has to pay for his father's sins, or that it is inappropriate for a teacher to play favourites to such an extreme." He sighed, and for a moment it seemed as though space itself sighed along with the Dark Knight, sighing in lament for the damage inflicted upon the pure soul that was Harry Potter. "You said that you are proud beyond expression of Harry's accomplishments, and I will agree that you certainly have cause to be. But has it occurred to you that there never should have been any need for such accomplishments? That they were all achieved at unspeakable risks no growing boy should ever have to take? Has it ever struck you that in such circumstances, all it takes is just either one toe out of line, or a blow he fails to miss, and it will be a literal game over for him. Have you ever thought of that?"

_No. No, I have not. I did not know it then, but I do now: I have almost never viewed Harry as completely human, like any other. I believed his future had been carved out since infancy. I believed that his is the bittersweet destiny of saviour, leadership, and prophecy, and within him was a limitless potential for the greatest things. I may be guilty of some deliberate negligence and subtle planning in order to arrange challenges for that potential to be tested, to see how far Harry could go, so that when the predestined time comes for him to confront Voldemort on his own, he at least has a decent chance at survival. I never believed that he could have died in one of those trials, and never come back. I never stopped to think what impact all those tests could have on Harry's psyche, and it was never in prime condition to begin with because of me…_

"Top grades, athletic achievements, social popularity, these are the expected normal accomplishments of any normal student at any decent school, not consistent continuous survival through life-and-death situations that come like a flowing river." Batman went on remorselessly, determined to drive the point home. "You have done great wrong, Dumbledore, not only by sending Harry to the Dursleys and turning your back on those things that you should have noted long ago, but also by taking pride in achievements that have ultimately brought the achiever himself neither happiness nor joy. Like what J'onn said: _a school is a school,_ a place where children attend to learn values and essentials of human life, where they are properly taught and nurtured, and where they feel safe and sound. It is not a survival camp, but you have turned your school into one for Harry. Why did you bring a dangerous evil-attracting artifact that had been perfectly safe for over six hundred years into Hogwarts? Why did you not make haste to buy the ingredients necessary for the Restorative Draught instead of just waiting for your school's mandrakes to mature? Why did you not put full effort into finding out how Voldemort the Younger was opening the Chamber of Secrets to free the Basilisk, and just expect Harry to resolve it all for you? Why did you not see to it that the Dementors never had opportunities to venture onto the school grounds to prey on a vulnerable boy? Why did you not try to find a way to get Harry out of the contract, and just allowed him – a minor – to participate in a dangerous competition that was notorious for its death toll? How far will you go to lure that evil to test the boy whom you should be protecting him against, Dumbledore?"

The accusations fell like a rain of hail on the old man, who could not look into any angry condemning gazes and stared down at his shoes instead. There was nothing he could say.

"There is the truth for your comfort, Mr. Dumbledore." Wonder Woman said silently, her eyes calm, her face as stern and grieved as her tone, her entire demeanour that a Goddess passing judgement on a severe blasphemer. "You may love that child, but that love is flawed. Severely flawed. Hopelessly flawed. It would have brought him to a most pitiable death had the Fates not finally showed him an act of kindness and brought him to us. Your love for him is no match for the ideals and expectations you had set for him. Your love for him caused you to, in your own words, put his survival over his happiness, but then you contradict yourself with all the survival-risking challenges that you have helped to put in his path, and in the end he was irrevocably scarred in all aspects: body, mind, heart, spirit and soul. Your love, as Green Arrow has so mildly put it, is worse than hatred, and is one of the root causes of Harry's suffering and pain."

For a long, long moment there was utter silence as Dumbledore shut his eyes and said nothing. Then, in a voice breaking with pleads of desperation, he said, "I cannot deny that I have made terrible mistakes. I know that I have no one to blame but myself for Harry's present low opinion of me, and that I well-deserve all of your censure for what I have done. He has every right to despise me, and it is definitely within your means to keep him from me forever, and you have good cause to, but I beg of all of you, please, let me speak to him once. Just once. I can even do it with all of you present, if need be. Just let me speak to him once, please. There is still so much more that I have to tell Harry with regards to Voldemort and how to defeat him for good, and he cannot possibly win against him without that knowledge. Please. I am begging all of you. Only one meeting, to tell him all that he needs to know to win the fight against that monster who will never rest until he has killed him. Please, only _one meeting,_ please…"

Dumbledore had never felt more helpless, more desperate in all of his life. He had never meant for everything to come to this. If only he had taken Minerva's advice to heart that night. If only he had forced himself to recognise the plea for help in those green eyes and answered to it all those years ago. If only he had, as the League so flatly pointed out, taken more steps in ensuring that Harry was not only safe, but also more importantly, happy. If only…

Too bad those "if only" will remain "if only".

Batman, that professional reader of the human mind and body language, was torn. Part of him wanted to dismiss the old man's begging claims and send him off with a bee in his bonnet, but part of him also noted the sincere honesty of those claims, and there was a high possibility that Dumbledore did know some final secrets that were crucial in getting rid of Voldemort and ensuring his new son could have a fresh new start away from the world that has disillusioned him so.

And it was something that he was determined to leave nothing to chance, to leave no stone unturned. "It is not when _you_ want to meet with Harry, Dumbledore. It is when _he_ wants to meet with you." Batman pointed out, a not-so subtle reminder that the old man was no longer in charge of the situation anymore. "Unlike you, Dumbledore, we apparently respect a precious little something called "free will". Now that you have had all of your say, it is time for mine, so let me make one thing perfectly clear. We do not approve of Harry returning to your world, and we will do everything we can to _**dissuade**_ him from it, but we definitely will not _**stop**_ him if he wants to, and even then we will do all in our power to ensure that he knows all things necessary in his fight against Voldemort, and that he is not without the protection of large numbers – our numbers. Whether you like it or not, if Harry ultimately decides to be at the forefront of a war that leaders like you should have resolved when you had all opportunities to long ago, then the League is definitely going to be involved. Especially me. I, of all people here, know too well what it is like to dedicate a lifetime to a crusade because of familial loss, and I will be damned if I let that poor boy fight on his own.

Just for your information, when we received word of your request, we have asked Harry if he wanted to meet you today, but he said no. He says that he does not feel ready enough to face you yet without wanting to do things which, in all honesty, he is entitled to in every way. So we will let you know when he is ready for you to spill all the beans. In the meantime, my advice to you is to wait with all the patience you can muster, pray for the sins that you and your lot had done against Harry, and for once be an active, engaging, dependable leader in the fight instead of waiting your selected champion to do the dirtiest work for everyone. Do whatever you can to help defend the innocent, and at least diminish Voldemort's power if you cannot defeat him. If you are really in need of serious backup, call us. Personal issues aside, Dumbledore, the League will never stand by to let the innocent be harmed, whether they are magical or non-magical."

Sensing he was beaten, Dumbledore nodded. As the saying went, _this was the bed he had made, so now he must sleep on it._ There was not the slightest chance of him being able to catch even a glimpse of Harry now, even if his intention had merely been to inquire how he was currently faring. All of his sins, his failings, had been stripped bare for he himself to see, and it had every chance of being the ugliest picture of all, though his present turmoil state did not allow self-reflection to paint it in full. "I understand. I am afraid you all have long desired my absence. Please rest assured that I shall not attempt to contact Harry unless he tries to contact me through you all, and that I will take your advice and your offer of assistance to heart."

"Glad we have made that as clear as crystal," Batman said. Dumbledore will still definitely bear watching, but things will be so much easier for Harry and them all if the old man did turn over a new leaf, however unlikely it might be. "We will be in touch with you."

"Yes, I believe we shall. Good day to you all."

"Good day indeed, sir, and goodbye." Superman was as courteous in his bidding farewell as he had been in greeting hello, but it could not be more obvious that he was as eager to see Dumbledore's back as the rest of his comrades.

Before Dumbledore was transported out of the Tower, he said one final thing to Batman, whom his foreknowledge indicated to be Harry's current and most possibly future guardian: "Please keep Harry safe, sound, and happy as he had never been in my care. Please tell him that…I am sorry for everything. I am sorrier than I can ever say for everything."

* * *

><p>Author's Second Note: That is all for now, folks. Please do remember that I am always open to suggestions, that reviews are my primary driving source, and please tell me what you all honestly think and feel about this. I have been undergoing severe issues of fluctuating inspiration and inconstant confidence for a long, long time, you see, and I am ashamed to admit that I do not know if I can make this work. I must confess that I am unlike those authors who can lock themselves up, sit down, and write a beautiful lovable tale from head to toe in just days. My motto has always been: "If I do not feel it, then I cannot do it." It is actually something of a miracle that I have managed to come up with this, actually.<p>

Good day, everyone...


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